Son of the Rider
by Darkrose1310
Summary: There are some things that were never meant to be born, yet many march across the three plains: Paradise, Inferno and physical. Now the fate of all rests with the son of the Ghost Rider... Caelan Balthazar Abrahams.
1. prologue

This is my first Ghost Rider fanfiction, taking place after the movie by several years.

**Disclaimer: The rights to Ghost rider belong to Marvel and the film rights to Columbia Pictures.**

Prologue

_There are some things that were never meant to be born, yet many still march across the three plains: Paradise, Inferno and physical. _

The child screamed for his mother within the darkness of his hiding place as blood splattered against the doors of the wardrobe and their attacks rattled against the doors, slamming their fist, dealing kicks and roaring at him.

_Many years ago, when the Earth was still new, a war broke out between Paradise and Inferno. Many fell and many died. The war raged on for hundreds of years… until after seeing the destruction that would ravish its creation, the Creator sent an angel to protect its people, to protect the innocent of the Earth…_

The door to the room was slammed open and his protector stepped through.

… _An angel with power over fire, from both Paradise and the dark Pit…_

The child heard the cracking sound of fire that comforted him somewhat, but that comfort was shattered when more blood splattered against the Venetian door of the wardrobe, some of which slid gracefully through the blinds and onto his tiny face. He cried.

…_The war on earth ended. But at a price. The angel had given his heart to a mortal and whilst on the battlefield she was dealt fatal wounds…_

Fresh tears rolled down his face as he saw one of his attackers head slam against the doors before being snapped between expert fingers. The others were dealt with quickly and simply: ones head was driven through another's chest before his heart was torn out and the third was beheaded with a chain of metal and hell fire.

_He made a deal to save her life and to end the war, but whist she survived… he was tricked. _

The crackling moved closer to the wardrobe.

_Trapped in hell, he was corrupted and his mission to protect the innocent was perverted to punish the guilty. Everyone, man, woman or child, commits some form of sin, some stain across his or her soul. We are all guilty of some sin. _

_So was she._

The child's eyes snapped shut as the Venetian doors were flung open, "Daddy." He whimpered.

_The angel became Metropolises' spirit of Vengeance and over the centuries was placed into the bodies of numerous hosts until he was bound to Jonathan Blaze._

Empty eye sockets glared down at the child; watching the shuddering movements that the boy made, almost humming with pure, unbridled fear that only an innocent child could possess.

_The former angel, now a demon, never expected to see his old flame walking the earth, hunting down creatures guilty of sin and protecting the innocent: as was her assignment given to her by the Creator. He never expected to be released from Jonathan and to never need a host again. He never expected for her to believe that his sanity had been restored…_

…_Or for her to become his mate once again._

"Son."

The boy – whilst still shuddering – raise his head to father. Lifting his arms above his head, he balled his minuscule hands into fists, "Daddy."

The Spirit of Vengeance picked the child up with his leather-covered arms and carried him through the destroyed house. Door ways and wooden furniture were splintered, metal objects broken and bent out of shape, shattered glass and blood painted across the walls. That was perhaps the worst thing that had happened to this once beautiful house: the blood that now made the walls sodden, seeped into them until the very smell of death permeated them.

The boy whimpered and dug his head into his father's bony and skinless neck.

"Soon child."

"Daddy."

He understood the child's distress, but knew not how to ease it. He – The Ghost Rider – could hear the child's mother dispatching the last few offenders in her living room.

Mere moments later, she entered the hallway, blood drenching her long curly hair. Her tense form relaxed when she saw the child in the Rider's arms.

"We must leave now." He ordered.

His empty eye sockets focused on the boy who was now looking up at him, fingers gripping the Rider's leather jacket.

The mother nodded, "I know a place – a safe house – we can take him there."

"No. You must take him. I shall finish the rest. When it is safe I'll find you. Until then, stay safe."

With that she took the child from him and hurried to her car. Placing the boy inside, she turned the ignition key, the engine roaring to life. Her eyes went to the Rider before her foot plunged down onto the pedal and the car speed away from what had once been their home.

_Now the fate of all rests with their child. The son of the Ghost Rider: Caelan Balthazar Abrahams._


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Ten years later…

Finding a new place to call 'home' is never easy. Especially when hidden movements within heaven are working in secret to arrange your death, sending their agents both mortal and immortal to execute you whilst the Devil himself plots his revenge against your mother and father. It doesn't help when demons and other immortals are baying for your blood either. Because of this, Caelan had grown up moving from place to place. It was a safety precaution, to prevent anyone from getting too close to Caelan, too close to his location.

The effect this had upon Caelan was a natural one, he had learned how to adapt to different environments, about the world itself and how different cultures often appeared to be worlds apart, he learned about all the different people: about their lives and what made them who they were. He met so many interesting people ranging from those whose true beauty and colours were shinning ever brighter for the world to see, to those who buried their true form beneath the very surface of themselves, only ever letting the proverbial tip of the ice berg to show, only ever scratching the surface of what they could accomplish.

But it had also made him exceedingly shy, as he was never, or very rarely, around someone that he knew and if he ever did recognize someone, he would soon have to move again: friend or foe.

So moving to a new town had become common practice for Caelan – it was apart of his life now – but he didn't have to like nor enjoy it. He just wanted a place to truly called 'home' like he had been able to ten years ago when he was six, when he was just another child, when his dad would visit whenever he could and would be able to send him presents without fear that some old enemy would intercept the package and find Caelan and his mother (or any other guardian that he had at the time).

But he now knew that he could never be normal and he didn't want to be normal, not in truth and he knew that no one was really born normal. It was such an indefinable quality as people had their own opinion on what normal was.

Caelan did miss when he had friends to play with, people whom he could talk to and share secrets with. But of course that was impossible now that whenever they stayed in one place for more than six months a Tracker would find him.

It was his scent, that one unique smell that belonged to him and him alone: the smell of a human hybrid. The older that Caelan got, the stronger his scent became. The more potent and intoxicating his essence became, the easier it was for them to find him.

Caelan remembered - remembered when it would takes months – years – to find him, and when he first changed, when he first transformed. Three years had dropped down to just six months. Six short months to make new friends and get settled in until they had to move again.

He'd forgotten what it was like to have a home.

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Sarah's eyes glanced at her sixteen-year-old son, Caelan, who was sat in the car seat next to her, going through the books and pamphlets of information that she had acquired about the town they would be 'living' in.

"You'll be starting at school on Monday. The head teachers name is Mr Brown and the assistant head is Mrs Cleaves. On Monday go straight to the receptionist, tell her your name and she should give you your time table."

"Okay mum."

"I know that last time was a bit short notice but I'm sorry Caelan."

"Mum, it's okay. We got out alright." Caelan replied, "No harm done."

She shook her head and said, "You changed Caelan…"

"And I fine now. Yeah, I was a little… shaken, but I'm fine now." Caelan said softly to his mother, "I need to get used to it anyway."

Sarah sighed, smiled at her son, "You're so much like your father, well, when he was younger."

Caelan arched an eyebrow, "I don't think dad was ever young."

Sarah smiled, "You'd be surprise. He's actually considered quite young for an angel."

Caelan smiled, "I know."

Caelan went back to reading the latest pamphlet for Haven. It was an appropriate name for the town: discovered in 1820, seventeen years before Queen Victoria was crowned, by a group of explorers and to them it must have appeared as a Haven. The history books said that they had run out of water and almost all food supplies when one of the men caught sight of a dense wood that eventually transformed into grasslands that went into a valley all because of a river that had came down from the mountains in the north. Despite its name, Haven had a long history of the supernatural. Demons and angels alike had been to the town for their own reasons as well as that of Heaven and Hell. Something to do with the land and what was underneath, a long network of tunnels. Sacrifices had once been made in a large cavern that said tunnels were all connected to.

Caelan relaxed into his car seat and adjusted his sunglasses. It wasn't really that bright at the moment, but it would very soon. He rolled his head against the seat as he felt the day become warmer. It was a small change that most people wouldn't notice, but to him, it was easy and he relished the heat as it soaked into him. Drawing the heat into his body and feeding off it.

He saw her smile out of his peripheral vision and he laughed, a baritone sound that was completely different from his normally soft voice and it rang out across the desert to their new home that was now just on the horizon.


	3. Chapter 2

**Author's note: To anyone who has read this fanfiction, I can only give you my sincerest apologies about the length of time between this and my last post and I'm hoping that I'll be able to post a chapter at least once a month from now on.**

**Chapter 2**

The car pulled up outside of their new home and from where Caelan was sat; there was nothing interesting about it. It was a house that on the outside appeared to be quite old, with windows so dirty they blocked any light from seeping into the house as the moth eaten curtains clung desperately onto the pole. He could smell a deep, musty aroma oozing from the house; one that had him feel slightly ill but thankfully did not over power his heightened senses.

He opened the car door and massaged a knot out of his tired back that had manifested during the last hour of their long trip. Sometimes he wondered why they didn't live in a motor home anymore – but then he would remember what happened to the R.V they had rented when he was thirteen and he sincerely doubted that they would ever try that again.

His steely blue eyes went back to the house. It appeared to be very rickety, like a gust of wind would blow it over. That would soon change and by the time they left, it would be a wonderful home with many modern appliances ready and waiting for the next occupant.

Sarah turned the key in the ignition and the engine purred softly as it powered down, "Would you like to go ahead and chose a room?"

"Not yet."

Caelan's eyes travelled to the car and he gave it a sympathetic pat. It was a good car, one that had survived many a dent and bump and was actually the closest thing he'd had to a long-term home in years but he could see that the poor thing wouldn't last much longer. Well, he could give it some of his power – part of his soul – and transform it, but he suspected that his mother would only ever let him do so in extreme circumstances.

Out of curiosity, he popped the bonnet, only to be greeted by a cloud of smoke. He gestured with his hands and the smoke died down.

He adjusted his sunglasses once more and looked over the top of them to his mother who was standing beside him now, "I think we should find a garage and get the old girl fixed up."

Sarah nodded, "I saw one on the way here. I'll call them after we finish unpacking."

Caelan straightened up and looked at some of their new 'neighbours' staring at them. Some of them were children; in fact the majority of those staring at them were children.

When he was younger – after he first changed in fact – his mother informed him that children, in their innocence, had a sense for things that adults did not. The older they became the weaker this apparent ability would become. Therefore, the children, whilst they could not see him for what he was under the flesh – only a sensitive could do that without him changing – could determine that there was something not quite right about him.

Despite that fact, Caelan was very fond of children and found them much easier to get along with than adults.

Caelan's attention went back to the car, "How much longer do you think she'll last?"

Sarah shrugged as she closed the bonnet, "I'm not sure. It honestly depends on what damage she sustains in the future and just how serious." She smiled and rubbed his shoulder when she saw his expression – one of regret – and said, "Don't worry, she's an old car anyway. Now, why don't you go and start unpacking."

"Yes mum."

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The inside of the house was draughty, due to the many holes in the walls that had formed over the years. The floorboards creaked under his weight. Some of the windows were cracked and shattered, whilst others had moths plastered to the glass by the grime and dirt. There was a fireplace on the farthest wall. It would have been beautiful once. He could see ashes in the bottom of the fireplace, relatively fresh – it wasn't unknown for homeless people to shelter in abandoned homes. Now the fireplace was decrepit and feeble in comparison to what it once was, just like the rest of the house.

Caelan waved his hand above the ashes experimentally. The ashes caught fire once more with his hand resting above them. Caelan withdrew his hand and watched as the fire shrivelled, royal blue flames turning blood red and finally black as the fire faded once more into ashes. Caelan decided not to do that again. But the few pieces of furniture that were left looked wooden and would catch fire easily.

He then heard a soft rustling upstairs. Growling softly in the back of his throat, he stalked back into the hallway. His eyes flickered to the staircase – some stairs were missing whilst others were broken – Caelan swept his arms beside him and his body floated upwards, landing softly on the first floor he stalked silently, like a predator, into the room on the far side of the house.

A noise was drifting out of the door that was ajar, rustling of sheets and panting, followed by a faint pitter-patter of feet and the dull _click_ of either claws or nails against the wooden floor.

Caelan pressed himself against the door and peered into the room. There was a dirty mirror in one corner that was partially covered by a white cloth, the end of which was now on the floor and beneath it a small body tossed and turned. Caelan recognized the smell: wet fur and dirt. Then he heard a frightened bark and a scruffy tail briefly emerged from the cloth.

Advancing, but no longer stalking, Caelan approached the cloth and lifted it off the animal. A small and tatty dog stared up at him with black eyes. It growled at him, low and animalistic. Its coat was a mixture of light and dark browns, with a creamy white underbelly and black back, face and ears. When Caelan looked deeper into its eyes, he saw a thin circle of brown surrounding its pupils.

"Hello there." Caelan said and leaned down.


	4. Chapter 3 part one

**Sorry about this, but I've never been good at writing these sorts of chapters (ones that take place in school), because of this, I've decided to do this chapter in two parts, just so that I can partly maintain my target of posting a chapter once a month. I promise that I'll try to get part two of this up as quickly as I possibly can.**

**Further apologies once again to whoever has enough patience to put up with this.**

**Chapter 3 – part one**

Natalie knew that there are things in this world that cannot be explained. That there are creatures that live in the shadows, things that science could not explain, only deny. Her parents had told her this since she was a little girl and had duly taught her varying methods of combat; they had told her of her families' history and how once they had fought along side a spirit sent by the Creature itself to protect mankind.

Then her Grandparents told her of the spirits betrayal of them. How he had returned from Hell only to murder millions of innocent people.

"_And though we all do sin Natalie, that does not make us bad people, but he no longer cared and slaughtered hundreds upon thousands of innocent people, even his mate."_

Natalie knew that it wasn't uncommon for some demons to kill their mates after… certain events had transpired, but she also knew that many of them 'mated' for life. The Ghost Rider was theorised to be included with these as it was his hosts that formed relationships and attachments to others but never the Rider, not after the murder of its 'wife' anyway.

But she had also been taught that there were those among the demon populous that were harmless and this stretched out into other apparitions.

"_We only hunt those that kill the innocent, those that wreak destruction across this plain. All others, we shall protect."_

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Caelan wasn't quiet sure what to make of the school as he stood outside the entrance. It was certainly… big, very big. He briefly wondered about whether or not he really wanted to enter the large building, crammed with hormonal teenagers around his age. Then he shook his head and took a deep breath.

_Why are you even doing this? You've been through this several times before so why bother worrying?_ Caelan thought with a shrug as he began the seemingly endless journey to the front door.

As he walked across the tarmac pavement up to the entrance, he glanced nervously around himself. Normal, everyday teenagers, some of which were his own age, surrounded him. They chatted among themselves and none of them paid him any mind as they talked to their friends.

After pushing the glass double doors open he crossed the small distance to reception where a woman with naturally blonde hair, as shown by the roots, now dyed a light pinkish-purple, sat typing away at a computer whilst talking to the parent of a sick student.

"It's perfectly fine Miss Levans. I hope Jim gets well soon." The receptionist, whose nametag told Caelan that her name was Ms Kale caught sight of him and smiled, "Alright Miss Levans, bye now." Ms Kale looked up at Caelan, intertwined her fingers and said, "Morning, what can I do for you?"

"Um, my name's Caelan Abrahams. My mum said that you'd give me my timetable." He explained shyly.

The receptionist nodded and reached down for something then passed him a piece of paper, "That's your time table and if you give me a minute I'll get you an organiser and a map of the school."

"Thank you."

Caelan put one of his hands into his left pocket and fiddled with a chain hidden within the denim. It was a present from his father, given to him when he was about seven or eight. Forged from his fathers' flame, it was near indestructible, an everlasting symbol of the love and care his father had for him, immune to the sands of time. The chain itself was silver – or at least something similar, in truth he wasn't entirely sure – and ended in what Caelan mused was either his family crest or the symbol of the spirit of justice and vengeance. He was leaning more towards his father's symbol due to… events some several thousand years previously.

"Excuse me?" The receptionist said, calling him out of his musing.

He shook his head, "Sorry about that."

She held out a piece of paper to him, thick black lines and annotations illustrating the walls of the building and each individual floor. M26, C13, H21 he read as he skimmed over the rooms and their names.

"Thank you." Caelan smiled shyly at her.

She smiled back and said, "Your first class is with Mrs Evans in M12."

"Thank you." Caelan said and walked briskly through the corridor to M12.

Stopped. Looked at his map. And walked back the way he'd came.

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Mrs Evans was a religious studies teacher in her mid forties with already greying hair. Lessons with her weren't exactly enthralling as she favoured slide shows and sheets upon sheets of paper over learning techniques such as role play or group work. However, this didn't bother most of her students, as Mrs Evans was a popular, well-liked tutor. Although on Friday's during the days' final lesson it could become somewhat tiresome.

Today was a crisp, fresh Monday morning. Most of the large windows in the main building of the school were open so as to let the dry, fresh air in – the air conditioning had been broken the day before and the caretaker was off ill. The light that shone in through the windows created a glare across the tables that shone into most people's eyes but after years of this, it no longer bothered them.

Mrs Evans had just begun telling the students what topics they would be learning that year when, a boy, who was tall, tall and thin, with tanned skin, piercing blue eyes and mahogany hair poked his head into the room and asked,

"Is this Mrs Evan's class?"

The nervousness in his voice was barely concealed and so audible through out the entire room.

Mrs Evans simply nodded and beckoned the boy in. "And you are?"

"Caelan Abrahams." was the answer.

Mrs Evans inspected him briefly before instructing him to take the seat at the desk next to Natalie's. As he passed her, Natalie felt something deep within the darkest and most primitive part of her brain spark, come alive without warming, and a sudden, almost uncontrollable feel of utter wrongness over took her.


	5. Chapter 3 part 2

**Jesus Christ. Six months? I guess I really shouldn't, but will anyway, blame the tempting new fanfiction I've started writing but haven't posted yet. Honestly, I need to rethink that monthly update schedule or at least stop-watching films that I **_**know**_** will give me new ideas and therefore take up time that should be rightfully spent on this. I bet I end up being one of the fanfiction writers who gets a project stared, sees a new one, forgets the old one and then remembers it later. Anyway, here's chapter 3 – part two; chapter 4 should be forth coming but I can't be too sure at this point.**

**Chapter 3 – part two**

Wrong. It was something that had always been used to describe Caelan. He was viewed by many factions in heaven as a grotesque atrocity to everything in existence. Safe to say, the opinion of those who dwelled in hell wasn't much better all things considered. However, it is correct to assume that since the Creator had never made any attempt to correct this heinous error that neither did many of said factions. They firmly believed that Caelan served some greater purpose of which they were not at liberty to have knowledge in case their actions somehow altered or prevented it.

It is also true, that though many of the legions of angels that serve the Creator are loyal, despite never having seen it's true from, that there are also many secret factions within heaven that disagree with its decisions. If it were not for the loyalty of the Archangels such as Michael, they would have long ago attempted to usurp their omniscient and omnipotent parent.

One of these factions in particular has spent many thousands of years investing its time in 'cleansing the Earth of abominations'. Working in secret, sending out its own agents of destruction whether they be human or otherwise, whatever and whoever it took to complete their objective. At some point within the last decade, this hidden movement had sent out agent, after agent, after agent only to find that the greatest affront to nature, to their Lord high Creator, Mother and Father of all that lived and all that it saw, survived each and every attempt upon its life.

Even after they had redoubled their attempts in both frequency and intensity when the child first transformed, first changed into its true form, portraying an insulting resemblance to its father, the traitor that had broken so many rules in mating with that whore whom the child called 'mother'. Such a creature, the leader of the fraction had decreed, should have never come to be and as such it was in their best interests to terminate the creature

"But can it be done?" One asked.

"My brother, nothing is eternal. Only our Lord whom we serve and the immortal souls that he grants to the pure." The leader replied calmly, fingers tented and eyes looking over the top of them to his followers.

"Kron has been supplied with all the resources that he will need in order to finish this. Once he has completed his assignment, he has been given strict instructions to tie up any lose ends." A brief pause followed, "No one will know of our involvement in this brother." The leader continued.

"What of the mother and father. You know once the child has been killed, they will hunt anyone involved to the end of existence. If they discover that we…" The first demanded.

"Do you really have so little faith in me, brother? Emotions, such as anger are blinding: they cloud judgment. The death of the monster will cloud their vision and it is then that we shall strike, ridding the world of scum once and for all." The leader rose to his feet and continued, "The extermination of this 'Caelan' shall be a lesson to all those who transgress against our Lord. His foul existence will prove of use to us brother: as a message to those who are against our just cause."

The first was silenced.

"Yes brother. Forgive me." The first bowed low to the Leader.

"All is forgiven my brother. All is forgiven."

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It was also true that She was doing _it _again. She was staring at him. He didn't like it. If she were half as smart as she appeared, she'd know this. Alas, she continued to watch him intently from the corner of her eye and to be frank he was bloody well fed up with it. It wasn't that he wasn't used to being stared at. As the new kid it was normal; people wanted to figure out how this stranger would fit into their already established order and the first method of deduction was to look at how they dressed and held themselves. It wasn't that she _was_ watching him that bothered him. It was _how_ she was watching him that was the issue.

It was the knowing look of someone who understands that there are things in this world that science cannot explain, that there are things that go bump in the night and that there are also those who bump back so to speak. It reminded him of how his father had looked at him the first night he had transformed: when vomit that bubbled and boiled after being superheated inside his stomach spewed from Caelan's mouth and as his body burned inside-out like a volcano or star collapsing turning supernova. That look had appeared very rarely since then and he'd only ever seen on it the faces of a few heroes, like Dr Strange (who wasn't really that odd in Caelan's opinion, maybe just a bit eccentric).

Although, the look only lasted for a moment, as the initial shock – that something so sweet and innocent could come from a being so destructive – wore off and afterwards they tended to leave him be. Sometimes questions would be asked. Sometimes they'd play with him like Spiderman normally did but now they just tended to remark on how much he had grown since they'd last seen him, what a handsome young man he was turning into (and to not turn out as his father had). From others the look never lasted for more than a few minutes whereas this had been going on (not so) discreetly for several hours.

Also this much attention from a member of the opposite sex other than his mother was alien to him and a little disconcerting as a result.

It wasn't that he didn't find her attractive. Short chestnut hair, olive skin and green eyes she was turning into quite the attractive young woman. Sure, she wasn't stunningly beautiful but she wasn't unattractive. Her name was Natalie Cortez and she was round about his age. Fairly tall, average student and on the free running team the school started last year.

Reaching out with his abilities – even though he knew some boundaries were being crossed – he listened into the conversation she was having.

"_I think he came from New York or Rio."_

"_New York or Rio?"_

"_What?" _Her friend demanded.

"_Oh come on. It's not like they're right next to each other."_

"_Hey. You try asking everyone about the new guy without them thinking you're into him?"_

"_No. That's what I have you for." _Natalie replied grinning_._

"_Oh shove off." _The friend paused and lowered her voice_, "Why are you so curious."_ then she smiled and gasped, _"You like him don't you?"_

"_Claire, shut up. I just have a feeling. There's something not right about him."_

"_Yeah, cause you know he's still wearing…"_

At that point Caelan choked and stopped listening immediately. Well, he hadn't learned much from that (other than that he should perhaps avoid Claire). Still at least he knew part of the reason why she was spying on him.

"Dude you okay?" His partner asked.

"Yeah, yeah. What're we doing?"

"2x – 3y=11 is equal to x+7y=30, find x and y."

Caelan groaned.

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Unluckily, the rest of the lesson dragged itself by, broken and bleeding fingernails doing little damage to the remaining metaphorical distance that was in this case time. Slowly, but surely, the remainder of the lesson passed with little to no distractions and finally the sweet, high pitched symphony of sound that was the end of period bell sang out. That just left fifth period. Now all that he had to do was find those elusive S buildings and this day would be over.

The dog would probably be sunbathing right about now. If not it would be tormenting his mother by stealing anything and everything that it could from the toolbox. So long as he walked it tonight, feed it and made sure it behaved itself when he got home he could perhaps manage to sweet talk his mother into letting it stay. And if that didn't work he could always ask his father.

Half smiling to himself he once again consulted the map. There was a rectangular building drawn on with S1, 2, 3 and so on labelled but due to the positioning of the rest of the buildings such as the sports hall he wasn't entirely sure which one was which. After half a minute of turning the map this way and that – and of not getting anywhere – he approached a cleaner.

"Science blocks the first building on your right as you walk out the backdoor." The caretaker told him. His accent was from the southern states and Caelan found himself comparing it to Johnny's. It was defiantly Texan. Thick but Texan.

Caelan nodded, "Back doors that way." The man gestured.

"Thanks." Caelan began tucking the map away into his jean pocket.

As he walked away the Texan shouted, "Say hi to your pa for me next time ya see him."

Frowning he turned around. The caretaker was gone. Caelan shrugged. He'd properly walked into one of the classrooms to clear a mess up or something.

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Science was another lesson that he had absolutely no aptitude for, so he was quite thankful when he found out that he'd be in set three or four. Admittedly he liked chemistry but that was mainly because one of his former teachers had been a bit of a firebug and had allowed Caelan to play with the Bunsen burners one too many times. (It wasn't Caelan fault, after all, that he had an affinity towards it.) So he sat in the lesson, trying to concentrate on what was being said and had a go at not eating his pen lid.

Partway through he signed, like his father he had no talent for this sort of thing.

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It was true that Ghost rider's talents didn't include science. He didn't, as they say, have a knack for it. Hunting, on the other hand, he was excellent at. However it didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened:

The building had all but been burned to the ground; his son's fire had consumed the entire west wing of the building and almost completely demolished the south before the nearby fire department had managed to gain control of the blaze. They'd put down the initial cause of the fire down to some exposed wire on the west side of the building and a gas leak. Nothing had been heard over the roar of the blaze and its ferocious light had blinded any passers-by or neighbours from seeing both parties as they escaped.

Unfortunately, whilst the fire had erased any bodies left behind during the fight, it had also expunged any clues that he could have used in order to track down whoever was responsible. It was down right infuriating, especially since it had taken a week of patience waiting until the police decided that there was no evidence of foul play and a further few days before he was able to approach the building without arousing suspicion, motorbike helmet or not.

"Found anything?" The voice on the other end of the receiver questioned, amid constant hammering.

"Nothing." Was his taciturn reply, followed by a question of his own, "How is the boy?"

"Caelan? He's fine, just fine. He started school earlier today."

"Don't know why you bother sending him to those places. You know as well as I do how little time he spends there."

"He needs an education. Plus he also needs to learn social skills and how to interact with people his own age."

"Sarah, how can he learn such skills if he is constantly running."

Sarah scowled and her voice became cold, "Would you prefer that he die making a stand?"

"No." Ghost rider replied matching the coldness in her voice with a sharpness of his own. "I don't think that it's healthy for him to spent a handful of months in one place at a time."

She sighed, her voice softening, "When I was a girl, we spent less than that wherever we stayed. Remember the city of Argon?

"Yes. We were there less than a week and you managed to insult not only the captain of the guard but the high priest of their temple as well as the Queen and half a dozen of the King's concubines."

A smile spread across her lips, "What was it you said to King Solis? Something about how if he didn't call of his guards that you'd tear out his intestines and strangle him with them but not before you would rip off his…"

"Yes, yes I remember. You kept reminding me the entire journey to the Sand Sea."

Sarah smiled, "But you laughed all the way there."

"Out of annoyance."

"If I was so irritating as a child, then why did you not perform the sleeper hold upon me?"

"Like you would have stayed still long enough."

"I am sure that overpowering a fourteen year old girl would not have been that difficult for you."

He sighed and said, "Please rephrase that sentence."

It was then that a burst of laughter erupted from her throat. Ghost rider shook his head in disapproval.

If he was honest, he didn't mind. She hadn't changed as dramatically as he had once thought and these days familiarity was so much more comforting than it had been before Caelan's birth. What had once been such a strong bond had become fragile, more so than life itself. He couldn't blame her though. He'd tried to rip her heart out after all.

Sarah checked the time on her phone and said, gently, softly to her distant husband, "Caelan will be home in a few hours. Do you wish to speak with him?"

"No. We've already been on the line for too long. Someone may have tapped in by now."

Sarah sighed, "Goodbye then. Send word if you find anything."

"I will."

He went back to his search, rummaging through chunks of rubble. The back entrance opened and boots made their way across the building.

Jonathan Blaze entered what was left of the room, a cup of coffee resting comfortably between his hands, "Residence said they saw a man in a suit, claimin' he was C.I.A. Askin' questions about Sarah and the kid."

"Name?"

"Special agent James Flinn. But I don't think that's his real name. From the sounds of things he's the same guy from Mexico."

"Hurm."

Johnny walked over to the spirit and asked, "You talk to Caelan recently."

The growl that was sent his way told him more than words ever could.

"It was just a question." Blaze replied calmly although he could not fault the creature he had come to have a sort of friendship with.

Most fathers worried about their children but they didn't have to deal with constant assassination attempts on their child's life since they were six. Most fathers also weren't thousands of years old with more than their fair share of guilt. And most of all, most fathers got to see their children in person, not stay away in case they inadvertently put their child in danger. The last time the spirit had seen his child was about three years ago, on New Years day. Their last conversation four months ago.

000000

"_Why are you going?"_

_The boy's eyes were big and blue as they had always been as he stared up at his father, having to crane his neck up to do so._

"_It's not safe for you to be near me, Caelan. I'm sorry."_

"_But, but, when will you come back?"_

_Johnny followed the conversation, although he'd rather have been elsewhere. The look on the kids face was practically heartbreaking._

_Ghost rider sighed, kneeled down in front of his son's face, which was now thinning out and losing that baby face quality it had possessed during the child's younger years. "I don't know."_

_He may have been thirteen but that didn't change the fact, never would change the fact that he still craved his father's company and to spend time with him. It was because of that that emotions were whirling around inside the child, making his shake with self-control that wavered. Johnny could see Caelan's skin turning a light smouldering red. Ghost rider noticed this as well and placed his skeletal hands on either side of his son's shoulders to comfort the younger being._

"_I'll keep in touch still." At that point Caelan body took on a blue hue as appose to the light red, his face turned gaunt and his eyes were becoming more and more hollow as the conversation wore on._

_A final sigh, "Come here." Complying, the child allowed himself to be wrapped up in his father's arms._

_Johnny didn't know if Caelan fully transformed or not, all he knew was that his Godchild was silently crying in his father's arms, being rocked back and forth in the arms of a creature whose own heart was crying out in anguish._

**And that's Chapter 3 finished. The identity of the Texan is meant to be a surprise for later on in this fanfiction but after re-reading this myself I realise that you'll either have guessed who he's meant to be or won't be surprised at all when he is eventually revealed. The next chapter will involve Sarah more and I may go into more detail about her and Ghost riders' relationship, although I may be pretty much doing that in a prequel I've done some planning for but may not start writing until this is finished. I'll see how things go. **

**Before I finish I'll just say that I muchly appreciate anyone who still follows this and special thanks to those of you who've reviewed.**


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